To Sleep in a Sea of Stars

by Christopher Paolini

  The car slammed into the outer rail with a yammering shriek that dwarfed the noise of the chairs. The capsule bucked, and the ceiling twisted and tore like taffy being pulled. Itari flew through the front windshield, tentacles flopping, and from the back, there was an electric flash, bright as lightning, and then smoke billowed through the maglev.

  With a dwindling whine, they slid to a stop.

  6.

  Kira’s stomach lurched as the sensation of weight vanished, but for once, her gorge didn’t rise. That was fine with her. Nausea was the last thing she wanted to deal with right then. Explosions, thermal lances, and maglev crashes… She’d had enough for one day. Suit or not, her whole body felt bruised.

  Itari! Was the Jelly still alive? Without it, everything they were doing would be pointless.

  Moving jerkily, even in zero-g, she released her hold on the car and the crew. Falconi was bleeding from a cut on his temple. He put the heel of his hand to the wound and said, “Everyone okay?”

  Vishal groaned and said, “I believe that removed a few years from my life, but yes.”

  “Yeah,” said Sparrow. “Same.”

  Nielsen brushed bits of glass out of her hair, sending them drifting forward through the destroyed windshield, like a small cloud of crystal motes. “A bit shaken up, Captain.”

  “Second that,” said Veera and Jorrus. The male Entropist had a row of bloody scrapes across his bare ribs, which looked painful but not serious.

  Kira pulled herself to the front of the ruined maglev and peered out. She could see Itari several meters ahead of them, clinging to a rail in the hull. Orange ichor oozed from a nasty-looking wound near the base of one of the Jelly’s larger tentacles.

  [[Kira here: Are you okay? Can you move?]]

  [[Itari here: Worry not about me, Idealis. This form can take much damage.]]

  Even as it spoke, one of the Jelly’s bony arms reached out from its carapace and, to Kira’s shock, began to snip away with its pincer at the wounded tentacle.

  “What the hell!” said Sparrow, joining Kira.

  With startling speed, the alien cut off the tentacle and left it drifting in the air, abandoned amid a cloud of orange blobs. Despite the size of the raw stump left on Itari’s carapace, the Jelly’s bleeding had already stopped.

  Hwa-jung coughed and swam her way out of the bolus of smoke, like a ship rising from the depths of oily water. She caught a handhold and pointed out the front. “The next maglev station is just ahead.”

  Kira went first, using her suit to knock out the jagged remains of the windshield. Then she pushed herself away from the car, and one by one, the others extricated themselves from the wreckage. Hwa-jung was last; she barely fit through the frame, but with some effort, she made it.

  Using maintenance grips on the walls, they crawled along the interior of the black and echoing tube until lights flicked on a few meters ahead of them.

  With a sense of relief, Kira aimed herself for them.

  As they floated over to the station, a pair of automatic doors in the wall opened and allowed them to dive into the vestibule on the other side.

  They paused then to regroup and check their directions.

  “Where are we?” Kira asked. She noticed that Vishal had a nasty cut on his right forearm and both of Hwa-jung’s hands were burned and blistering. It must have been excruciating, but the machine boss hid her pain well.

  “Two stops past where we should be,” said Nielsen. She pointed downspin (not that they were spinning anymore).

  With her in the lead, they started through the abandoned hallways of Orsted’s docking ring.

  Occasionally they encountered bots: some recharging from sockets in the walls, some scurrying about on tracks, some jetting about on bursts of compressed air, busy with one of the myriad tasks necessary to the functioning of the station. None of the machines seemed to pay them any mind, but Kira knew each and every one was recording their location and actions.

  The outer decks were filled with heavy industry. Refineries that, even during an attack from the nightmares, still rumbled and groaned with the imperatives of their operation. Fuel processing stations, where water was cracked into its component elements. Storage units packed to the brim with useful materials. And of course, the vast stacks of zero-g factories, where everything from medicines to machine guns was produced in quantities not only sufficient to satisfy the needs of Orsted’s resident population but also much of the larger UMCN fleet.

  Empty as they were, the nether regions of the station gave Kira the creeps. Even there, the alarm sirens still wailed, and glowing arrows (smaller and dimmer than in the main part of the station) pointed the way to the nearest storm shelters. But no shelter could help her now. That much she’d admitted and accepted. The only safety she could count on was the isolation of deep space, and there too, the nightmares or the Jellies might find her.

  They moved quickly, and after only a few minutes, Falconi said, “Here,” and pointed at a hallway that led rimward.

  Kira recognized it as the same hallway they’d passed through during their arrival at Orsted.

  With a sense of growing eagerness, she kicked her way along its crooked length. After everything that had happened on the station, returning to the Wallfish felt like returning home.

  The pressure door to the loading dock slid open, and through the airlock at the far side, she saw …

  Blackness.

  Emptiness.

  And perhaps a kilometer in the distance, the Wallfish rapidly shrinking in size, driven by a white plume of RCS thrusters.

  7.

  Falconi shouted. Not a word or a phrase, just a raw cry of anger and loss. As she heard it, Kira felt herself collapsing inward, surrendering to despair. She allowed the mask to slide off her face.

  They’d lost. After all that, they’d—

  Falconi jumped toward the airlock. He landed awkwardly and his breath ran out of him with an audible whoof, but he kept hold of the rungs next to the lock. Then he dragged himself across to the window and pressed his face against the sapphire wedge and stared after the Wallfish.

  Kira looked away. She couldn’t bear to watch. Seeing him like that embarrassed her, as if she were intruding on something private. His grief was too open, too desperate.

  “Ha!” said Falconi. “Gotcha! Oh yeah! Just caught her in time.” He turned and grinned at them with a wicked expression.

  “Captain?” said Nielsen, floating over to join him.

  He pointed out the window, and to her astonishment, Kira saw the Wallfish slow and reverse its course as it headed back toward the airlock.

  “How did you manage that?” rumbled Hwa-jung.

  Falconi tapped his blood-smeared temple. “Direct visual signal sent through my overlays. As long as the ship’s passive sensors are working, and as long as they’re in range and there’s a clear line of sight, they can’t be jammed. Not like radios or FTL broadcasts.”

  “That is quite a few qualifiers, Captain,” said Vishal.

  Falconi chucked. “Yeah, but it worked. I set up an override system just in case anyone tried to steal the Wallfish. Ain’t no one hijacking my ship.”

  “And you never told us about this?” said Nielsen. She actually seemed offended. Kira, on the other hand, was impressed.

  Falconi’s levity vanished. “You know me, Audrey. Always know where the exits are. Always have an ace up the sleeve.”

  “Uh-huh.” She looked unconvinced.

  “Here, let me see your hands, please,” said Vishal, moving over to Hwa-jung. She dutifully let him examine her. “Mmm, not too bad,” he said. “Mostly second-degree burns. I will give you a spray to prevent any scarring.”

  “And some painkillers, please,” she said.

  He laughed softly. “Of course, and painkillers.”

  The Wallfish didn’t take long to reach them. As it loomed large in the window, Veera grabbed the handle in the center of the airlock in an attempt to get a better view.

 
; “Ahhh!” Her yell ended in a strangled gurgle. She arched her back nearly in half, and her whole body went rigid, save for small twitches in hands and feet. Her face contorted into a hideous rictus, teeth clenched.

  Jorrus matched her yell, although he was nowhere near the airlock, and he likewise contorted.

  “Don’t touch her!” Hwa-jung shouted.

  Kira didn’t listen; she knew the suit would protect her.

  She looped several tentacles around Veera’s waist while, at the same time, attaching herself to the nearest wall. Then she pulled the convulsing Entropist free of the door. It wasn’t easy; Veera’s hand was clamped around the handle with unnatural strength. As the woman’s grip gave way, Kira hoped she hadn’t torn any of the muscles in her hand.

  The instant Veera’s fingers lost contact with the door, her body went limp, and Jorrus’s howl ceased, though he retained the expression of a man who had just seen unspeakable horror.

  “Someone grab her!” said Nielsen.

  Vishal lunged out from the wall and snared Veera by a sleeve of her jacket. He wrapped an arm around the Entropist and, with his free hand, peeled back her eyelids. Then he opened Veera’s mouth and peered down her throat. “She’ll live, but I need to get her to sickbay.”

  Jorrus groaned. He had his arms wrapped around his head, and his skin was alarmingly pale.

  “How bad is it?” Falconi asked.

  The doctor gave him a worried look. “Uncertain, Captain. I will have to keep an eye on her heart. The shock might have burned out her implants. I can’t tell yet. They need a hard reboot.”

  Jorrus was muttering to himself now: nothing that Kira could make sense of.

  “That was a nasty trick,” said Nielsen.

  “They’re panicked,” said Sparrow. “They’re trying anything to stop us.” She raised a middle finger toward the center of the station. “I hope you get your own asses electrified! You hear me?!”

  “It’s my fault,” said Kira. She motioned at her face. “I should have kept the mask on. I would have seen the electricity.”

  “Not your fault,” said Falconi. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He maneuvered over to Jorrus. “Hey. Veera’s going to live, yeah? Relax, it’s alright.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Jorrus between hitching breaths.

  “Explain.”

  “She—Me—Us—” He wrung his hands, which caused him to start floating away. Falconi caught him, stabilized him. “There is no us! No we. No I. All gone. Gone, gone, gone, ahhh!” And his voice dropped into meaningless rambles again.

  Falconi shook him. “Pull yourself together! The ship’s almost here.” It made no difference.

  “Their hive mind is broken,” said Hwa-jung.

  “So? He’s still himself, isn’t he?

  “That’s—”

  Veera woke with a gasp and a wild start that sent her spinning. An instant later she clutched her temples and began to scream. At the sound, Jorrus curled into a fetal ball and whimpered.

  “Great,” said Falconi. “Now we’ve got a pair of crazies to deal with. Just great.”

  Soft as a falling feather, the Wallfish slowed to a stop outside the airlock. A series of clanks sounded as the docking clamps activated, securing the nose of the ship.

  Falconi gestured. “Kira. If you wouldn’t mind?”

  As the doctor struggled to calm the Entropists, Kira allowed the mask to cover her face again. The current in the airlock door appeared to her as a thick bar of bluish light, as if part of a lightning bolt had been trapped in the handle of the door. The bar was so bright and wide, she was surprised it hadn’t killed Veera outright.

  Extending a pair of tendrils, she sank them into the door and—as she had in her cell—rerouted the flow of electricity through the cabled surface of the Soft Blade.

  “It’s safe,” she said.

  “Outstanding,” said Falconi, but he still looked wary as he reached for the airlock controls. When no shock hit him, his shoulders relaxed and he quickly activated the release.

  There was a beep, and a green light appeared above the control panel. With a hiss of escaping air, the door rolled open.

  Kira released her hold then, retracting the Soft Blade and allowing the electricity to resume its normal path. “No one touch the handle,” she said. “It’s still hot.” She repeated herself for Itari.

  Falconi went first. He floated over to the nose of the Wallfish, punched a combination of buttons, and the ship’s own airlock popped open. Kira and the others trailed after, Vishal with one arm around Veera while Hwa-jung helped with Jorrus, as he was barely able to move on his own. Last of all was Itari, the Jelly graceful as an eel as it pulled itself through the airlock.

  A thought occurred to Kira. A horrible, cynical thought. What if the UMC chose that moment to blow the docking clamps and space her and everyone else? Given everything the League and the military had done, it wasn’t something she’d put past them at that point.

  However, the seal between the airlocks held, and once the last centimeter of Itari’s tentacles were inside the Wallfish, Nielsen closed the ship’s door.

  “Sayonara, Orsted,” said Falconi, heading down the Wallfish’s central shaft.

  The ship seemed dead. Abandoned. Most of the lights were off, and the temperature was freezing. It smelled familiar, though, and that familiarity comforted Kira.

  “Morven,” said Falconi. “Initiate ignition sequence and prepare for launch. And get the damn heat back on.”

  The pseudo-intelligence answered, “Sir, safety procedures specifically state that no—”

  “Disable safety procedures,” he said, and rattled off a long authorization code.

  “Safety procedures disabled. Beginning launch preparations.”

  To Hwa-jung, Falconi said, “See if you can get Gregorovich hooked back up before we blast out of here.”

  “Yessir.” The machine boss handed Jorrus off to Sparrow and then flew down the corridor, continuing deeper into the ship.

  “Come now, please,” said Vishal, pulling Veera in the same direction. “Off to sickbay for you. And you too, Jorrus.”

  Leaving the incapacitated Entropists with Sparrow and the doctor, Kira, Nielsen, and Falconi proceeded to Control. Itari trailed behind, and no one, not even the captain, objected.

  Falconi uttered a sound of disgust as he entered the room. Dozens of small items cluttered the air: pens, two cups, a plate, several q-drives, and other pieces of random flotsam. It looked as if the UMC had ransacked every drawer, cupboard, and bin, and they hadn’t been too careful about it either.

  “Get this cleared up,” said Falconi, moving to the main console.

  Kira made a net with the Soft Blade and began to sweep the flotsam out of the air. Itari stayed by the pressure door, tentacles coiled close to itself.

  Falconi tapped several buttons underneath the console, and around them, lights brightened and machines powered up. In the center of the room, the holo-display sprang to life.

  “Okay,” said Falconi. “We’ve got full access again.” He tapped buttons along the edge of the holo, and the display switched to a map of the area surrounding Orsted Station with the locations and vectors of all nearby vessels labeled. Four red-blinking dots marked hostiles: nightmares currently skirmishing with the UMC forces around the curve of Ganymede. A fifth dot marked the nightmare ship embedded in Orsted’s inner ring.

  Kira hoped Lt. Hawes and the other Marines would be safe on the station. They might have answered to the UMC and the League, but they’d been good people.

  “Looks like they hit the station and flew on past,” said Nielsen.

  “They’ll be back,” Falconi said with grim certainty. His eyes darted back and forth as he studied whatever his overlays were showing. He uttered a sharp bark of laughter. “Well, I’ll be…”

  “Who’d have thought?” said Nielsen.

  Kira hated to ask: “What?”

  “The UMC actually refueled us,” said Falc
oni. “Can you believe it?”

  “Probably planned on commandeering the Fish and using it for shuttling around supplies,” said Nielsen.

  Falconi grunted. “They left us the howitzers as well. Thoughtful of them.”

  Then the intercom clicked on, and Gregorovich’s distinctive voice rang out, “My, you’ve been busy, my pretty little moppets. Mmm. Kicked up the hornets’ nest, did you. Well, we’ll see what we can do about that. Yes we will. Tee-hee.… By the way, my charming infestations, I have reignited the fusion drive. You’re welcome.” A low hum sounded from the back of the ship.

  “Gregorovich, yank the restrictor,” said Falconi.

  An infinitesimal pause on the part of the ship mind. “Are you absolutely sure, Captain O my Captain?”

  “Yes, I am. Yank it.”

  “I live but to serve,” said Gregorovich, and he tittered a bit more than Kira would have liked.

  She couldn’t help but worry about the ship mind as she pulled herself into the nearest seat and buckled the harness. The UMC had put Gregorovich in lockdown, which meant he’d been kept in near total sensory deprivation since they’d arrived at the station. That wouldn’t be good for anyone, but especially for an intelligence like a ship mind, and doubly so for Gregorovich, given his past experiences.

  “What’s the restrictor?” she asked Falconi.

  “Long story. We have a choke in the fusion drive that changes our thrust signature, makes it a hair less efficient. Take it out, bam! we look like a different ship.”

  “And you didn’t pull it out back at Bughunt?” Kira asked, scandalized.

  “Wouldn’t have helped. Not enough, at least. We’re talking a difference of a few hundredths of a percentage point.”

  “That’s not going to hide us from—”

  Falconi made an impatient gesture. “Gregorovich plants a virus in every computer we send registry info to. It creates a second entry with a different ship name, different flight path, and engine specs that match what our drive is like sans restrictor. Far as the computers go, it won’t be the Wallfish blasting off. Probably won’t fool anyone for more than a few minutes, but right now, I’ll take any advantage we can get.”